


Big balled bastards

by millygal



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gene can't take it anymore</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big balled bastards

Sometimes he could be so bloody infuriating. Armed robbers, hostages, big balled bastards with bollocking great guns and still the stupid little shit thought he could 'diffuse' the situation. Instead of waiting for his governor and the experts he'd taken his skinny little arse inside to offer himself up as a switch.

By the time Gene squealed to a sideways stop in front of the bank, Tyler had managed to get himself taken hostage. Cracking the Cortinas door and sliding out onto the pavement, Gene stubbed out his ciggie and sauntered towards the others.

Huddled together in a tight little group were Ray, Chris, Annie and a few random uniforms.

"What's twinkletoes gone and done this time then?"

Ray stifled a grin and proceeded to lay out everything from the minute they'd got there until Sam'd strode into the bank to offer himself in place of the other poor bastards stuck inside, "Sorry Gov, we couldn't stop him. By the time we'd seen him moving he was half ways in the door".

"Not your fault Ray-mondo. The man seems to 'ave himself a death wish, is all," The look in Genes eyes belied the throw away words. Blazing blue searched every possible entry and exit. Noting how many windows, what direction the door faced and if he could slide on inside and take out the arseholes holding his deputy before they noticed the breach.

Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen and still no word, no sign of life.

Gene Hunt wasn't a patient man, nor was he a polite one. On occasion he could be considered nice, from a distance, after eight Brown and Milds and a whiskey chaser but most the time he was the devil in a camel coloured mac. No one back chatted, no one questioned and no one got away with kidnap and armed robbery on his watch. Especially if his dopey DI was one of the silly buggers holed up inside.

Gene paced and smoked, smoked and paced and still there wasn't a peep. He was just contemplating putting his foot through the front door when a single gunshot cracked the air.

It took Ray, Chris and Annie to hold him back.

Ten minutes. Ten fucking minutes passed without a single sodding peep and then Tyler had shown that smug mug of his.

Relief had outweighed anger for the briefest of moments. It didn't last long.

They'd barely cuffed the armed bastards and stretchered the wounded when Gene took a hold of Sam's arm and almost dragged him off his feet to get him round a corner and out of sight.

Sam's back and shoulders hit the wall before he's even realised they've moved "Gov?" Barely repressed rage is nigh on rolling off his DCI. The hands holding him hostage are shaking whilst the fingers attached to them are digging into his arms, painfully.

"You think you know everythin' don't you Tyler?"

So, this is where he gets a beating for disobeying orders and not toeing the line, as per. Fine, so long as it's done with quickly. He's in no mood to deal with Gene Hunts overly acrobatic lessons on policing, "I'm sorry, all right! Look, I know I fucked up but..."

Sam feels himself being shaken and thumped against the wall. His head feels like a bunch of Reds are doing the samba on his frontal lobe and the look in his DCI's eyes is beginning to unnerve him, more than usual. The other man is physically shaking from head to toe and his breath is coming in short shallow shrifts.

"You don't get it do you?"

Sam merely raises a brow.

"You could have died."

"News flash Gov, I'm a copper. That's my job, catch the bad guy, be a hero. It's part of the routine."

A small portion of Sam's over taxed brain understands that baiting the man currently pinioning him to a red brick wall, isn't such a fan-fucking-tastic idea but the other part is sick of taking this shit. Enigma doesn't even begin to describe his boss. Chauvinist, Neanderthal, even just plain old prick comes pretty close. Under all that though, there's mixed signals and true friendship and something undefinable, undefinable in 1973 anyway.

Something in Gene snaps. A short, sharp twang inside and he's pushing his face so close to his DI's he can smell what the other man had for breakfast. He raises his fist as if to punch Sam. Instead he starts thumping the wall two inches from his head. "You thwack could thwack have thwack died thwack" Then Gene's chapped and snarling lips are on Sam's. The bloodied hand now embedded with Mancunian masonry slips around Sam's neck, pulling him forward and up so he's on tiptoes and trapped between six foot of Northern hard man and the wall.

It takes Sam ten seconds to realize he really does have his DCI's tongue running across his teeth and his reactions take over. One hand snakes under Genes jacket and shirt, gripping flesh with nails. The other shoots into his thick honey coloured hair. Stubble on stubble illicits a dirty little shiver from Sam, making him arch into Gene, trying to climb inside the mans skin. Sam lets his tongue dance along Genes. Playing out an ages old dance and fighting for his own self control.

The feel of his DI's cock standing to attention and pressing against his own through rough denim almost sends Gene over the edge and he growls, long and low. The sound is completely swallowed by Sam sucking on his tongue.

Breathing finally becomes an issue and they pull apart, just enough to allow them to slump against the wall. Forehead to forehead, heaving for breath. Sam can still taste Gene, single malt, stale ciggies and something made entirely of Gene himself. Running his tongue all around his own mouth, savouring the flavour of his DCI, Sam flashes a satisfied smirk at the other man, "Didn't know you cared, Gov."

Gene matches the smug little look and levels his eyes at Sam, hunger evident in his gaze, "Neither did I Sammy-boy, neither did I."


End file.
